


There is no try (but it’s still going to take awhile)

by juurensha



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Don't copy to another site, Exes, F/F, F/M, Gen, Getting Back Together, Hand & Finger Kink, Happy Ending, Intercrural Sex, Jedi Master Gojo, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sith Lord Getou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29868327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juurensha/pseuds/juurensha
Summary: This, Geto would have to admit, surveying the stun cuffs around his hands and Gojo’s and the sight of Gojo lolling around while seemingly high on whatever the smugglers had dosed him with, was not an ideal situation.Sith Lord and Fallen Jedi Geto doesn't think his path lies with Jedi Master Gojo any longer, but his Force Walking ghost-sickness calls that into question.
Relationships: Female Sith Inquisitor/Khem Val, Fushiguro Megumi & Gojo Satoru & Kugisaki Nobara & Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji, Getou Suguru & Mimiko & Nanako, Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81





	There is no try (but it’s still going to take awhile)

**Author's Note:**

> So for some reason, I really wanted to write a Star Wars AU for Gojo and Geto, and then of course while writing it, I was like, let's go Old Republic Legends-verse that Disney refuses to acknowledge as canon. This was betaed by the lovely bittermoons, and I hope you guys enjoy it!

This, Geto would have to admit, surveying the stun cuffs around his hands and Gojo’s and the sight of Gojo lolling around while seemingly high on whatever the smugglers had dosed him with, was not an ideal situation.

It should have been a fairly straightforward mission—he had heard in passing that there was a Sith holocron on this planet (and not just any Sith holocron— _ Darth Imperius’ _ holocron—that could hopefully fix his current predicament), and so he had traveled there in search of it.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the Jedi Council had also heard about it and had sent Gojo to go retrieve it for them.

And not just them—apparently some smugglers looking to make some quick credits had  _ also  _ heard there was a holocron there, and in the midst of his and Gojo’s fight, with Gojo flinging basically every single thing he could reach with the Force at him while Geto drew on the power of the Force ghosts that he had bound to himself and tried to launch a Force Storm at him, they were both ingloriously knocked out with beast-grade tranquilizer darts and then tossed into the holding area of the smuggler’s ship, where they were now.

(They really should have noticed the smugglers earlier, but after all—

Neither of them can really focus on anything else when they’re fighting each other.)

“Suguru~~” Gojo sing-songs drunkenly then giggles. “Suguru, you look  _ so good.  _ Even when you’re looking a bit peaky, I hate to say it, but black robes and Sith gold eyes really suit you.”

“Thank you,” Geto replies politely. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

(Somehow Satoru always looks good.

It’s been like this since they were padawans in the creche together—Satoru looks ethereal with his white hair and his gorgeous pale blue eyes.

All the way up until he opens his mouth, of course.

The etherealness is toned down a bit now that he wears a blindfold most of the time, but that doesn’t hide the sharp, defined planes of his face or the sheer long, lean strength of his body.)

Gojo preens, looking altogether too satisfied with himself. “Yep, even better than you. I never look bad, even beat up and thrown around by some second-rate smugglers.”

“Third-rate, and maybe you should reconsider the benefits of being pretty when stuck in the ship of human traffickers,” Geto points out.

“Fair point, they’re so dead,” Gojo continues before musing, “Hey, do you think these smugglers are going to try to sell us as Jedi pets? Oooh, or as dancers or something? Could be convenient—I’ve got the moves, and I could also wreck some havoc on the Hutt criminal empire while I’m sold there—”

“How long are you going to let that stuff stay in your system?”

“Breaking it down as we speak, but I’m also keeping that Sith holocron at bay, so it’s kind of taxing,” Gojo pouts at him, his blindfold slipping down slightly. “I know you want it because Darth Imperius was also a master of using the Force Walk, but are you absolutely sure? It keeps bringing up some Dashade named Khem Val, and you know Dashade eat Sith.”

“They also eat Jedi—they’re not picky as long as it’s Force-sensitive,” Geto points out, scooting closer and reaching up with his shackled hands to adjust Gojo’s blindfold (Satoru has perfect control, but he also knows it’s more comfortable for him to not have to look at everything with full Force vision all the time—also his eyes have always been distracting).

Gojo allows him to move it up, then leans in against the touch of his hand. “I think this is the longest since you left that we’ve been together without fighting,” he says quietly.

(He’s right.

But for everything wrong with the Jedi Order—from its support of the decaying Republic, to its apathy towards the Outer Rim, to the hypocrisy of half of its members, to the constant mantra of ‘the Force wills it’—the one thing that he could never deride and also desperately misses is Gojo Satoru.

He just wishes that they could work together again like old times.

But they can’t, because Satoru won’t leave the Jedi Order.)

“We could go longer than that if you would just leave the Order,” Geto can’t help but reply.

Gojo snorts and turns his head away. “And do what? Go off with you in your little quest to see Force users rule the galaxy? The Empire already has that, and look how  _ that’s  _ turning out—”

“You know my motives aren’t as simple as that, and as if the Republic is any better than the Empire,” Geto snaps. “Corruption is rampant, even in the Order itself, and all any one ever cares about is power and wealth—”

“If you want to talk about people who only care about power and wealth, you should really look into some of your Imperial allies,” Gojo interjects, leaning back against the hull. “‘Brotherhood of Darkness’—Force, does the Dark Side just stunt you guys in the edgy teenager phase?”

“Hm, not sure, but I do think it at least lets people sense a Mandolorian sneaking into the Temple and making off with the Dark Saber,” Geto replies sweetly.

Gojo lets out an aggrieved huff. “Fucking Toji—just waiting until I was off-planet to launch that attack.”

“Oh, it was Toji?” Geto raises an eyebrow. “Well, that explains a lot—I heard it was someone from House Vizsla.”

“House Vizsla may have taken credit, but it was for sure Toji. Who else is so weirdly Force resistant?” Gojo shakes his head. “Speaking of Dashade, I’d wonder if he was  _ part  _ Dashade, but that wouldn’t explain how Megumi’s so Force sensitive—you know he can even call over Force-sensitive creatures now? I even convinced the Council to let him have a Loth wolf as a pet.”

“I hope he’s more responsible with that than you were with that Vornskr you tried keeping around,” Geto comments lightly.

Gojo rolls his eyes from behind the blindfold. “Wow, still bringing that up—we were still padawans!”

“Master Yaga still has that scar, doesn’t he?” Geto continues, letting a few notes of sympathy creep into his voice.

“Hey, without us running around with it, he would have never figured out how to form Panda, so really if you think about it, he should thank us,” Gojo says, sticking out his tongue.

“Uh-huh,” Geto allows. “So where is your padawan, anyway? Didn’t want him near possible corrupting Dark influences?”

An absolutely infuriating smirk appears on Gojo’s face (it is also devastatingly attractive on him, because everything about Satoru is simultaneously hot and annoying). “Oh, my  _ padawans _ will be here soon to bail us out, don’t worry.”

“Padawans?” Geto’s eyebrows fly up. “The Council let you have more than just your Mandolarian foundling?”

“I now have  _ three  _ padawans,” Gojo says with relish, a big smug smile on his face.

“….who did you blackmail this time?”

“Nothing like that,” Gojo says blithely, scooting around to get more comfortable. “One they decided to officially assign to me, and the other was a kid who swallowed a Sith artifact.”

“…swallowed?” Geto repeats, somewhat incredulously.

“Oh, like you have any room to talk,” Gojo sniffs. “How did you figure out how to bind ghosts the first time—that’s right, you  _ swallowed  _ some Sith grave dirt.”

“Ashes,” Geto corrects. “And there’s a difference between following a known Sith ritual and just up and swallowing an artifact—to begin with, how big of an artifact are we talking? Is your newest padawan actually a Mon Calamari?”

“He’s human, no midichlorians at all as far as we can tell. Sturdy, though—he swallowed one of Sukuna’s fingers and is just fine,” Gojo replies cheerfully.

(Sukuna, one of the legendary Sith kings of Korriban, had a long and terrible reign, conquering planet after planet, before finally being stopped by a group of Jedi.

Ultimately, it was said that they couldn’t even actually kill him—they could only dismember him and seal him away…

And Satoru somehow had a padawan who had swallowed one of those fingers and survived?

Well—it did sound like someone Satoru would take in as a padawan. The bigger question was—)

“The Council didn’t order you to kill him?” Geto asks curiously.

Gojo makes a rude noise and blows a raspberry. “I told them that if Yuuji loses control, I can take care of him. Otherwise, he’s my padawan. He gets along well with the others! I think Megumi has a crush…”

“Makes sense. Being padawans together does tend to draw people together,” Geto comments, letting his gaze linger on Gojo’s face.

A slightly bitter laugh escapes Gojo’s mouth as he looks away. “Yeah. Hope his padawan crush turns out better than mine did though.”

(That hurts.

It shouldn’t—because after all, he was the one who decided to leave, but—

Satoru is the only one who makes him question his path at times.)

Geto clenches his fists as his nails scrape against his cuffs, but manages to maintain his calm smile. “Well—it’s not all bad, is it? We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

Gojo snorts, looking back at him. “Yes, great, we’re talking, fantastic, when back when we were Jedi Knights, we would have been making out in the control room by now.”

“We could still do that,” Geto points out.

Gojo purses his lips and kicks around his long legs, purposefully banging against Geto’s shin. “We could,” he acknowledges. “But then while we’re all hot and sweaty and tangled up with each other, what happens when my padawans come breaking in? They’ll definitely be scarred for life.”

“As if you’ve ever cared about that,” Geto complains, rolling his eyes.

“Or what happens if  _ your  _ little hellions show up,” Gojo continues blithely. “They already want to murder me, but if they see me making out with their dad, they will probably unlock some new Dark technique just to smite me—not that it would help them.”

“Nanako and Mimiko probably would, but they’re off on Dathomir learning from the Nightsisters right now,” Geto replies.

“The Witches of Dathomir? Spooky,” Gojo comments. “Hope you gave them a lot of rations though—I doubt there’s anything good to eat there.”

“Nanako and Mimiko are very resourceful,” Geto demurs.

“I would hope they are, since you killed an entire village for them,” Gojo says idly.

(He remembers that cage where the girls had been kept—rusted bars, the two of them beaten blood and bruised with split lips, matted hair, and dull eyes—and the  _ smell _ —

It had just been the last horror in a long string of horrors in the Republic’s constant war against the Empire, and the Council didn’t even  _ care  _ about stuff like this—they had sent him to pacify what appeared to be a rogue Sith ghost, and then one of the villagers had patted him on the arm and said that they had taken care of the problem well at hand by caging these two witchy brats—

He doesn’t regret at all igniting his lightsaber that day and killing every single person who had either had a hand in this or was just willing to turn a blind eye.

No more following the Council’s orders, no more fighting for a corrupt Republic, no more will of the Force—

He was done with all that, and he was going to make sure everyone else had a chance to as well.)

Geto simply quirks up an eyebrow. “They were locked up in a  _ cage _ —would you have done differently?”

“Yes,” Gojo says immediately. “I would have freed the girls and brought them back to the Temple and then threatened everyone there with what would happen if I came back and saw this again and probably arrested the ringleaders—”

“And what real difference would that make?” Geto asks, sitting back. “The villagers would forget your threat in time, and it’s not like you actually even have the time with all your missions to check that often. And as for the ringleaders—odds are at least some of them could bribe their way out of the courts.”

“And so what, the solution is to fall to the Dark and kill all of them?” Gojo demands.

“Better than waiting around for the Force to suddenly will it,” Geto says, his voice soft but caustic. “Or waiting for it to suddenly will that both Nanako and Mimiko should die the way Riko did.”

Gojo flinches, biting his lip. “…if Toji hadn’t attacked—”

“If Toji hadn’t attacked, the Council had already ruled that she needed to die,” Geto bites out. “Because it was the ‘will of the Force.’”

“We could have gotten her away, you and me,” Gojo argues, leaning forward, “Regardless of what the Council thinks—they always  _ say  _ they know the will of the Force, but you know that—”

“Why does it even have a  _ will?  _ Why does it need to move us around— _ kill us  _ even to achieve some kind of balance?” Geto asks, his voice harsh.

Gojo sighs and leans back, reaching up to scratch his hair before remembering that his hands were cuffed. “Oh, here we go again, with the Darth Traya cult—”

“Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t make it a cult,” Geto breaks in.

Gojo scoffs, shaking his head. “You think the Force is some kind of malevolent god, and yet, I don’t see you not using the Force and letting your natural talents fade away—all I see is you  _ augmenting  _ it.”

“Sometimes, one has to fight poison with poison.” Geto bares his teeth at Gojo.

“Or you’re just using excuses to hold onto your power.” Gojo smirks at him.

“I’m not the one who stayed where it was nice and cozy and is continuing the system we hated,” Geto shoots back.

Gojo’s brow actually starts to furrow as his hands clench in his robes. “ _ I’m  _ not the one who decided to give up on the Order—to give up on  _ us _ to run off on some kind of maniac quest while not thinking about other ways to shake up the Order that didn’t involve killing a bunch of people!”

“Yes, and I see that it’s going so well, what with the Council still handing out death sentences on kids—”

“You think I haven’t considered killing off the entire Council?” Gojo hisses, leaning forward. “You know I could. But what would that help—there’d just be more like them to replace them. You don’t get change without educating the younger generation first.”

“And how long does that—”

( _ Painpainpain _ **_painPAINPAIN_ ** )

“Suguru?  _ Suguru?  _ What’s wrong—hey, Suguru!”

“Hey, quiet down! What’s going on here?”

Geto feels Gojo press against him as struggles to keep his ghosts in check (notherenotherenothere).

“Back off,” Gojo snarls.

“Oho, the Jedi has a mouth on him—huh, thought you were a Miraluka, but you actually have eyes. We’re going to get a very pretty sum of credits for you—”

Geto doesn’t even think before biting at the hand that’s disgustingly tracing Gojo’s cheek, and then he feels the impact as the smuggler (or really, slaver it seems) backhands him with his other hand.

At that, he feels Gojo still at his side, the Force now gathering all around him, and then—something  _ shifts  _ in the hold—there’s a feeling of something rummaging around his mind before a light laugh sounds out, and that feeling drifts away—and the next minute, the slavers are screaming, clutching their heads as blood starts to runs out of their eyes.

Geto stares at the slavers before turning to stare at Gojo. “…are you sure you still count as a Gray Jedi now?”

“That wasn’t me,” Gojo says in an annoyed tone, his voice clearer than before. “I—shifted more of my focus to filtering the drugs out of my system to break out of my cuffs, and that must have meant the Sith holocron broke through my shields and decided to run rampant. Whoops.”

“Huh,” Geto muses as the slavers let out a last gasp and topple over. “Pretty powerful for a holocron that isn’t even open yet. And I feel fine…”

“Maybe it just hates slavers,” Gojo suggests, his cuffs clicking open as he dumps them on the ground and then reaches over towards him to look him straight in the eye. “And you—you’re  _ not  _ fine…I didn’t realize—”

“You weren’t supposed to,” Geto says, moving away from his hands and holding up his own cuffed hands for Gojo to handle. “And—I guess that makes sense. Darth Imperius was a slave before she was discovered to be Force sensitive, after all. Even her holocron probably has no love for them.”

“You and your fanboying over a dead Sith lord,” Gojo mutters, waving a hand as Geto’s cuffs click open. “I suppose I should just be happy this isn’t a Darth Traya holocron, definitely wouldn’t be able to take any of that crap.”

Geto rubs his wrists and raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re actually going to let me open it? After fighting me so hard?”

“Hey, I had to see if your abilities were still up to par, and I’m curious too,” Gojo says with a shrug, reaching out to Geto’s bruised cheek and healing it a bit (not a lot because one of the few things Gojo is terrible at is Force healing, but it’s the thought that counts), before his hand drops to Geto’s shoulder. “You—what even  _ is  _ all this—come back with me, and I’ll get Shoko to take a look at you—”

“Even if Shoko agreed, it’s not something she could fix,” Geto says, gently pushing Gojo’s hand away. “That’s why I need to see the holocron.”

Gojo is still and silent for a rare moment before saying quietly, “…how far will you go to fix— whatever this is?”

“You know how far I will go,” Geto replies simply, crossing his arms.

Gojo lets out a tiny bitter scoff. “Oh—I thought I did, but I go and take on a slate of missions, and then turn around, and you’ve gone all dark side, so—I’m not making any assumptions here.”

“You know me, Satoru,” Geto says, reaching out to wipe away the smear that that disgusting slaver had left on Gojo’s cheek. “What do you think?”

Gojo closes his eyes briefly, leaning into Geto’s touch before drawing away and securing his blindfold once more. “I think that I’d better listen in on this Sith holocron and see what she has to say.”

Geto inclines his head in acknowledgement before walking over to the part of the cargo hold where the slavers had stashed the holocron and taking it out.

It gleams strangely in the light, and he can feel whispers in the Force. Even the ghosts bound to him seem to shrink back.

(It’s probably best not to open it with fresh corpses here—who knows what might happen.

Better to go up to the cockpit of the ship so that some of the effects may be ameliorated.)

“Let’s head up,” Geto says, walking out of the cargo hold. “Just in case she decides to reanimate these guys as flesh eating zombies or something.”

“As if that’s a threat,” Gojo scoffs, getting up from on top of a crate where he had been kicking his legs out obnoxiously. “If you open it up and something bursts out, it’s going to be totally your own fault if it eats you.”

“I’m a dead man walking anyway,” Geto says calmly before they arrive at the cockpit, and he opens it.

The whispers stop, and a hologram of a pink Twi’lek woman, wearing black robes and a mask, is projected out, and she waves at them in what appears to be a cheerful fashion. 

“Hello, hello, hello! I am the heir of Lord Kallig and Tulak Hord, Master of the Dead, Darth Imperius,” the Twi'lek woman removes the mask to reveal a sharp face with a slave brand on her forehead. “If you’re holding this, I assume you’re some aspiring Sith looking to conquer the Dark Side and reign supreme over the galaxy, and you have certainly come to the right place for that—what can I say, I really  _ am  _ the best.”

“Chirpy for a Sith,” Gojo comments, his eyebrows rising. “Especially a Sith Lord. How come I never run into anyone fun like that?”

“Because you curbstomp all over them,” Geto says, rolling his eyes. “Darth Imperius was known as—unusual even during her own time, so shhhh.”

Darth Imperius continues with a smile on her face. “So some advice: #1. When all else fails, shock it with Force Lighting. I’m serious, it saves on  _ so  _ many problems, and then you can get to where the  _ fun  _ is.”

“Maybe you should try shocking yourself with Force Lightning,” Gojo interjects brightly. “Since apparently it’s a Sith cure-all.”

“Tried it, didn’t work,” Geto says drily, pushing his shoulder against Gojo’s.

“#2. Perhaps  _ don’t  _ unnecessarily murder people and wreak wanton destruction when trying to take over a planet?” Darth Imperius wiggles her eyebrows around. “It creates all sorts of unnecessary drama and problems— _ yawn.  _ Of course,  _ talking  _ as if you’re always on the verge of murder and mayhem is usually enough to get everyone to properly fear you if you’re a Sith lord. But if they call you a slave, there will be no survivors.”

Darth Imperius’ eyes seem to gleam gold for a second at that, and Geto is reminded that this is also the Sith Lord known to have straight up challenged Darth Thanaton in front of the entire Dark Council, and then walked away with both his head, a Darth title, and a spot on the Dark Council afterwards.

“#3. The part you’ve been waiting for!” Darth Imperius cheers, waving around both hands. Gojo automatically copies the motion, and Geto forces his hand down in case it somehow activates something in the holocron. “Force Walk—you must learn to bind both sides of the Force, life and death, and then you will have to exert your will on any restless Sith ghosts around. Unwilling ghosts do tend to create more energy, but I’ve found it’s less annoying and less chatter to have willing ghosts—plus, you can promise to make them one with the Force again when it’s all over, if you can still access the Light Side, so they’ll be more willing to help.”

Gojo whistles. “A Sith Lord advocating the Light Side? Hey, is this how she died? Got murdered by other Sith Lords not too happy about this whole consorting with the Light Side thing?”

“Her death remains something of a mystery, and quiet, this is the most important part,” Geto says, his eyes pinned on the holocron.

“Quick note though: if you bind too many ghosts, your body and mind will start to fail,” Darth Imperius tsks while Gojo turns around to just directly stare at him, completely removing his blindfold to do so. Geto pointedly doesn’t look back at him and just focuses on the holocron.

(This is probably his last resource.

If even Darth Imperius didn’t reveal the answer—

Well, he’s going to have to make plans for where Nanako and Mimiko should go after he passes away.

…Satoru might keep an eye out for them if he asks him to, but he doesn’t want the two of them involved in the Jedi Order any more than they have to be.

They’d probably make fantastic bounty hunters—but they also might feel honor-bound to continue his cause.

Hm.

Obviously he would like to see the insidious grip of the Force lessened, but at the same time—he doesn’t want that to consume Nanako and Mimiko’s life the way it has his.

They should be able to go off and become their own women, meet people that they greatly care for, and live long, fulfilling lives.)

“There’s a way around that—but I’m not telling you until you put this holocron in the hands of a Dashade named Khem Val,” Darth Imperius says, wagging a finger at them.

Geto’s heart leaps in his chest and then falls again.

(A  _ Dashade? _

Even if he manages to find him—how is he supposed to make sure he doesn’t die in the attempt what with his ghosts going haywire and also the Force just not working on Dashade?)

“He’s probably on Dromund Kaas—oh, and I’ll guarantee that he won’t eat you. Hey Khem, don’t eat the bearer of this message!” Darth Imperius instructs. “And remember—‘Through Victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.’”

The hologram dissipates at that, and both of them are just left staring at the holocron.

“….she wants you to find a Dashade? Are you sure this isn’t some prank from the great beyond? Seems like the sort of joke a Sith Lord would make, getting you eaten.” Gojo comments finally, stretching his long legs out. 

“It sounds exactly like the kind of thing  _ you _ would do with a holocron,” Geto retorts despite Gojo voicing nearly exactly what he was thinking.

(It’s always like that—Satoru says everything out loud that Geto just thinks and holds inside of himself, and he’s sure that the Council was surprised when it was him who Fell instead of Satoru.

Of course, if Satoru had Fallen, he would have already accomplished everything he had set out to do, unlike Geto.

Satoru has just always been gifted that way—born with the ability to see the Force, nearly unstoppably strong in his abilities, lightning-fast reflexes, and unfairly good-looking—

It was all balanced out by his absolutely obnoxious personality though.

But—

Force, he wishes they were still a team.

He wishes they were still together.

It’s hard always facing all this on his own—

But Satoru stands firm in his beliefs, and ridding the galaxy of one more Sith Lord will be the will of the Force for him, even if it might gut him.)

Gojo considers it and inclines his head, “You are totally right. So—I guess we should head to Dromund Kaas?”

Geto’s head jerks up as he stares at him. “You’re—you want to come with me?”

“I’ve always wanted to explore a Sith jungle planet,” Gojo says cheerfully with a slightly manic expression. “And plus, should be fun to actually meet a Dashade. You know, before it ends up nearly killing you, only prevented through the actions of yours truly.”

“I wouldn’t think you would want to prevent it,” Geto says honestly. “Or that you would even want to help—doesn’t the Force and the Council want me dead? Given a couple of months, I very well will be.”

Gojo stays silent for a moment before reaching out and cupping his face while saying fiercely, “You deserve to die in a glorious battle—against me specifically, not anyone else, because how dare you fall to anything else. You’re not going to waste away because of some weird ghost sickness. That’s not how you’re going to die, Suguru. I won’t permit it.”

(Ah.

See—this is why no matter how far their paths diverge, no matter how much Satoru annoys him, no matter how much he tries to forget about him—

This is why he still loves him.)

“If you’re not careful, I’m going to kiss you,” Geto says hoarsely, staring into Gojo’s eyes. 

Gojo smirks at him and raises his eyebrow. “What are you waiting for?”

Geto surges forward to capture Gojo’s mouth with his own, and Gojo doesn’t even hesitate before following enthusiastically, immediately licking at his lips and working in the tip of his tongue, his hands clutching at Geto’s hips.

Geto falls into the chair, and Gojo eagerly clambers into his lap, his long legs swinging as Geto places a hand on his hip to steady him while also slipping familiarly into his robes, rooting through his pockets.

(Those candies Satoru likes so much, a bunch of random gadgets, half of them probably puzzles, bacta gel sprays, spare lightsaber parts—

But nothing feels like what he’s looking for.)

Geto detangles himself from Gojo’s distracting tongue, scraping his nails against the back of Gojo’s neck the way he knows he likes it as he asks in surprise, “You’re not carrying any lube in your robes?”

Gojo hisses as he arches his back. “Why would I need that with you not there anymore?”

(Oh.

Then he hasn’t—)

“You haven’t—with others?” he blurts out, his hands gripping Gojo’s hips tight.

Gojo shrugs, a languid motion that makes the muscles in his wiry arms flex beautifully as he dumps his robe on the ground and begins to open up his tunic. “I tried it out with a few others, but it never felt all that amazing. I don’t like settling, and I guess you ruined me for anyone else.” He frowns then, his hands stopping as his shirt hangs open, revealing the pale muscled expanse of his chest, and his icy blue eyes glint dangerously. “What, did you just run off and have a ton of fun now being the hottest guy around without me there?”

(He had tried to move on from Satoru.

But even when he found men who resembled him—be it the white hair, blue eyes, overwhelming presence in the Force, or just the tall, lanky build—the closer they resembled Satoru, the more acutely he could feel that they weren’t  _ him,  _ and it always left an empty, hollow feeling inside him in the end.

It was better off sleeping with his memories, he had found.

Or—succumbing to his base desires and sleeping with Satoru again.)

“Just a few others,” Geto echoes honestly, sliding his hands up Gojo’s side. “They could never compare to you.”

Gojo preens, his eyes going half-lidded as he twists sinuously in Geto’s lap, laces his fingers around the back of Geto’s head, and purrs, “Of course they couldn’t—you’d had the best, so what could compare after that?”

“Cocky,” Geto chides even though it’s true, and slowly undos Gojo’s belt. “But now what—I don’t want to use anything the slavers have, that’s gross.”

“True,” Gojo acknowledges, Geto’s robes coming undone with barely a twitch of his fingers (he’s showing off—and that just turns him on even more). “Sadly, due to your lack of preparation, I guess we’ll just have to make do with not screwing like rabbits and just use our hands.”

“There’s still our mouths. Or our thighs,” Geto points out, his hands drifting down Gojo’s bared thighs.

Gojo gets a glint in his eye, and then he rubs his thighs together on purpose around Geto’s hands while rubbing at the bulge in Geto’s unlaced pants. “Yeah? You want my thighs, Suguru? Been dreaming of them?”

“Have  _ you _ been dreaming of this?” Geto shoots back, pressing Gojo’s hand against his crotch.

Gojo licks his lips before dragging Gojo’s undergarments down and grasping his cock that juts out. “Oh, you have no idea,” he says darkly, rubbing the tip with his thumb before standing up, pulling his pants down further, and leaning against the dashboard, while turning his head around and fluttering his pale eyelashes coquettishly at him. “Treat me gently, Suguru,” he says in a breathy tone, purposefully spitting in his hand and rubbing his saliva between his own thighs. “It’s been so long—who knows if you might  _ break  _ me with your throbbing manhood—”

Geto rolls his eyes at Gojo’s terrible porn-flick talk as he spits in his own hand to add more lubrication between Gojo’s thighs. “You’d like that,” he states, lightly slapping Gojo’s ass.

Gojo lets out a slight moan and sticks out his skinny butt further. “ _ Ah _ —unless you know, all the ghosts have been sapping away your energy. I would understand if you no longer have the stamina to  _ properly  _ wreck me—”

“I’ll show you stamina,” Geto growls into Gojo’s ear as he drapes himself over his back and thrusts between Gojo’s wet and tight thighs. The slippery smooth sensation is  _ heavenly _ , as are Gojo’s gasps and moans when he thrusts against Gojo’s little puckered hole or his balls, or when Geto takes him in hand and begins to fondle him teasingly.

“ _ Ah _ — _ ugh _ — _ faster,  _ Suguru,” Gojo whines, craning his head back at him while trying to thrust faster into his hand.

“Now, now, who wanted to test my stamina?” Geto asks, not speeding up his hand at all and kissing Gojo’s neck before licking the shell of his ear.

“You— _ ugh _ —asshole,” Gojo grumbles, clenching his thighs tighter as he grabs Geto’s hand that is tweaking his nipple up to his mouth, looking him in the eye as he begins sucking on his fingers.

Geto keens then starts thrusting harder, his fingers also playing with Gojo’s laving tongue. “You’re— _ oh _ —one to talk— _ ugh _ —I’m doing all the work here.”

“As you should—ah,  _ ah! _ ” Gojo moans as Geto starts playing with the tip of his cock. “Who— _ oh _ —who  _ left me,  _ Suguru? Huh?”

(It kills him that he gave this all up.

But—but even through this haze of pleasure—

He still believes that the Force cannot be trusted, and he cannot belong to the Order—

Even if that meant breaking Satoru’s heart repeatedly.

But—

Even though he had broken Satoru’s heart—

Here he still is, promising to help him find a cure, and entangled with him again.

Is there—some path that exists that they could walk on together?)

Geto kisses Gojo’s shoulder in apology as he takes his fingers out of his mouth, pinches his sensitive nipples, and starts to speed up his hand, gasping into his ear, “I won’t— _ ah _ —Force, Satoru, why is it always so  _ good _ with you—I won’t apologize—because you know why I did it but— _ ah, ah, ah _ —Satoru, you know—you  _ have  _ to know—I love you until the stars burn out, and there’s nothing—nothing— _ oh _ —more that I wish for then that— _ ah _ —we could find some way—for our goals to align.”

Gojo moans, the thrusts of his hips growing erratic and his cock leaking the way it does when he’s getting close, and he twists around enough so that he can kiss Geto before saying, “I love you too, and— _ ah, AH! Oh— _ that’s all I want as well. Some way to— _ oh my god Suguru, thrust there again _ —some way to change the system—some way for us to be together— _ harder _ —some way that both you and I get what we want. Together.”

Saying that, he brings Geto’s hand back up again and starts to nip and suck at them in earnest, laving his tongue at the joints.

(Oh, Satoru  _ knows  _ what that does to him.)

Geto lets out a shout and comes in spurts between Gojo’s thighs as Gojo lets out a groan right after he does so and comes in his hand as well.

Geto’s brain is completely blank as he slumps back into the pilot’s chair, and Gojo follows suit, collapsing into his lap and purposefully smearing their combined mess over Geto’s legs.

“Gross,” Geto grumbles, lightly pushing at Gojo.

Gojo just wiggles around even more in his lap. “Is that how you refer to someone who you just said you’d love until the stars burn out? I’m disappointed in you, Suguru.”

Geto sighs, stretching out the Force enough to pick up Gojo’s robe, set it in his hand, and start to wipe up the two of them with it. “Loving someone doesn’t mean that dried semen suddenly isn’t the itchiest thing ever.”

“You’re calling our combined love fluids the itchiest thing ever, Suguru?” Gojo demands mockingly, fluttering his eyelashes at him.

Geto shudders, pushing his robe into his hands. “Do you have to call it that?”

“What should I call it? Our love essences? Our love milk? Our—”

Geto covers his mouth with his hands to stop the onslaught, but of course Gojo just licks his hand while he pulls up his pants and drapes his robes back on, looking down at the obvious stains. “One of these days, someone has to figure out how to clean things through the Force.”’

“I’m surprised you haven’t already,” Geto replies dryly.

Gojo shrugs, tucking it around him so the stains are a little less obvious. “It’s fine. Have to leave something there to traumatize the padawans with, right?”

“How the Jedi Council ever let you have a padawan is beyond me,” Geto sighs and says sarcastically, shaking his head. “Where are they anyway?”

“Already transmitted them the coordinates of the nearest planet that we can reconvene at,” Gojo says, pointing out the window at the planet they were rapidly approaching up ahead.

“…did you type that in while we were—”

“Yep,” Gojo says, a happily smug expression on his fast.

Geto lets out another sigh to cover the flutter of fondness that floods over him, and quips, “Hope you didn’t type it wrong while you were in the throes of passion.”

“I typed it in before you really started putting your back into it, don’t worry,” Gojo reassures him, settling back in his lap, his long legs hanging off and sprawling around.

Geto tucks his face into the corner of Gojo’s neck and breathes in his scent for a bit (it’s the smell of nights spent whispering together in the creche, wrestling together on the training grounds, stakeouts for long missions, and just all the comfort and security he ripped from himself when he chose this path).

Gojo lets him, just happily and obnoxiously musing out loud as the ship flies towards the planet, “On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being  _ absolutely _ constipated, couldn’t take a shit for days—I have a feeling Megumi is going to be at a  _ 20 _ when he sees you.”

“Do you get such a kick out of torturing your padawan because he looks kind of like Toji?” Geto asks mildly.

Gojo snorts. “Who knows, that could be part of it—but the main point is that  _ someone  _ has to teach Megumi to have fun, and of course, he’s very lucky to have me as his Master.”

“I feel like you said the same thing about Iori,” Geto says meditatively, shifting around in the chair so Gojo’s bony butt isn’t digging in quite as much into his thighs. “She’s never closer to the Dark Side than when contemplating murdering you.”

Gojo lets out a dismissive noise, flapping his hands around. “It’s character building! Prevents her from going full Dark Side!”

“Sure hope that works with your padawan,” Geto says, leaning back and then saying contemplatively, “Although I wouldn’t mind taking him in, either—”

“Don’t start,” Gojo says immediately, wagging his finger in his face. “Number one, I already put in  _ so much  _ effort with Megumi. Number two, he hates you because you tried to beat up Maki and Yuuta once. Number three, you will not be able to handle his prissy silent bitchfits, I guarantee it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Geto says in a smug tone just to piss Gojo off as he kisses the side of his head.

\--

Gojo surprisingly had not been exaggerating about Fushiguro Megumi’s constipated expression. Between his complete look of horror every time he catches sight of the stain on Gojo’s robe, and his carefully closed off but completely tense expression every time he glances over at Geto, and then the way his face completely scrunches up every time Gojo makes kissy faces at him, Geto half expects the padawan to just stroke out.

“—so that’s the whole story, and we’ll all be going to Dromund Kaas to find this Khem Val who is a Dashade so we can save Suguru’s life,” Gojo finishes, beaming at his assembled three padawans. “Any questions?”

“Yes. Have you lost your mind?” Fushiguro immediately asks.

“Cruel, Megumi!” Gojo whines, clutching at his chest. “Is that how you question your Master who wants to save the love of his life?”

“Yes, when the love of his life is a Sith Lord,” Fushiguro says bluntly, glaring at Geto.

“Not technically a Sith Lord,” Geto interjects. “I’m not part of the Empire, and I do not have a Darth title.”

“Yes, because technicalities are going to keep us all from getting stabbed,” Fushiguro says, his Loth wolf at his side baring its teeth at Geto.

“I think it’s really romantic, a Jedi Master and a fallen Jedi/Sith Lord!” Itadori comments, beaming cheerfully and not looking at all like a teenager who swallowed a Sith artifact. “I trust your judgment, Master Gojo!”

“This all seems super suspicious,” Kugisaki, the Miralan girl, declares, folding her hands into the sleeves of her robes, conveniently close to her lightsaber.

“Two against one—sorry Itadori,” Fushiguro says, glancing over at Itadori.

“No problem!” the pink-haired boy smiles. “You definitely have a point, Fushiguro!”

As Fushiguro flushes and looks away (Satoru probably is right about that crush—he was usually pretty perceptive about stuff like that), Kugisaki just sniffs and adds, “Also Dromund Kaas is mostly a swamp, and the parts that aren’t are the Empire, and it’s not like there are agents, shopping, or anyone to get saved there, so what’s the point?”

“I hear Maki has been bounty hunting in that system,” Gojo says conspiratorially, draping an arm around Kugisaki’s shoulders. “Depending on how fast we wrap up the mission, I’m sure we could go see her—of course if you think it’s a waste of time, there’s also important work in Coruscant—”

“Nope, it’s absolutely the top priority to find that Dashade as fast as possible,” Kugisaki says, clenching her fist.

“Two against one, suck it Megumi,” Gojo says immediately, sticking out his tongue at Fushiguro.

Fushiguro lets out the disgusted sigh that only a teenage padawan can bring to bear with the weary expression of someone long-used to Gojo’s antics (Geto can relate). “When he inevitably ends up betraying us, I’m going to say ‘I told you so.’”

“You’re such a buzzkill, Megumi,” Gojo complains, letting go of Kugisaki to ruffle Fushiguro’s hair. “Don’t you think I can take him?”

“You can, but I think it hurts you every time,” Fushiguro says bluntly before turning away, his Loth wolf scampering out ahead of him. “We’ll be staying on our ship. If you guys still want that piece of junk, I guess you’re welcome to it.”

The other padawans scamper off after him, Itadori loudly asking Fushiguro why they need to be in separate ships (“You don’t want to know”) while Gojo saunters over to Geto.

“As you can see, I’m the best Master, he doesn’t even want to associate with you,” Gojo gloats.

“I’m pretty sure that in terms of people he wants to punch, there’s me, and then immediately below that, there’s you,” Geto says contemplatively.

(He doesn’t ask Satoru if his leaving had hurt him as much as Fushiguro had said it had—because what would be the point?

For himself, it had been like ripping off a limb—like ripping out a  _ heart _ —but he had been the one who had chosen to do it.

Satoru didn’t even have that consolation.

And yet—here he was, still helping him.

It’s why Satoru has always been better than him.)

“Megumi can’t, you know I’m too strong in the Force to let him,” Gojo says smugly, draping an arm over his shoulders. “Why don’t we go clean out the slaver ship and make it a bit more homey? Would be nice to not have to worry about padawans walking in on us or claiming to be scarred for life.”

“Somehow, I think they already are,” Geto says dryly.

“It’s good for them, makes them grow stronger,” Gojo says, swatting his ass.

Geto rolls his eyes but still kisses Gojo’s neck anyway as they re-enter the shuttle to clean out the bodies.

\--

For all that Gojo’s padawans are suspicious of him (minus Itadori, who probably any Master would love to have as a Padawan), the slaver ship really is a shithole (not surprising), so they end up all having to share the same ship en-route to Dromund Kaas anyway.

In the process, he gets to see Gojo’s Jedi Master teaching methods—and they’re a bit different from his own.

“Come on guys, I know you can do better than that!” Gojo says enthusiastically, swinging his legs back and forth as he’s perched on the armrest of a chair and using the Force to move his blue lightsaber around to fend off all three of his padawans.

Fushiguro parries a blow with his blue lightsaber and whistles for his Loth wolf to attempt to hold it down, while both Itadori and Kugisaki rush in at Gojo for a pincer attack.

Gojo avoids them both with ease, causing their green lightsabers to neatly crash into each other’s.

He giggles happily and crosses his ankles primly. “Almost had me there! Well—I say almost…”

Even Itadori is starting to frown, while Kugisaki looks downright murderous, and Fushiguro’s Loth wolf has started growling.

They seem more frustrated than anything else, and Geto can’t help speaking up, “While this does seem to be benefiting their teamwork and camaraderie—I really can’t believe this is teaching them anything meaningful about their lightsaber forms.”

Gojo tilts his head back against the chair to stare at him, smirking at him. “Oho, you think you can do better than me? You’re also mostly a Niman user—while both Fushiguro and Kugisaki here are Shien and Djem So respectively, and Itadori is getting the hang of Ataru, although it’ll be a while before he’ll be a master at it like me.”

“I see that,” Geto says dryly, taking out his lightsaber while glancing at where Itadori had nicked the ship’s ceiling when he had been backflipping especially enthusiastically. “But unlike you, I generally use my lightsaber as something more than a blunt instrument or a glowstick.”

“Hey, it’s definitely useful as a glowstick!” Gojo protests, spinning around in his chair. “Alright, have at it. Padawans, try to disarm the Sith Lord. Suguru, treat them like you would treat Nanako and Mimiko—but with less of, giving into the Dark Side, ‘kay?”

Geto ignites his lightsaber, gesturing for the three padawans to come at him. “As you wish. Although all of them would be much better off listening to me…”

“Master Gojo is the best!” Itadori says loyally, flipping up and coming within an inch of actually hitting Geto.

A mouth opens up at the side of Itadori’s face that sneers. “That trash, or this ghost-sick one—all of them are a waste of time. At some point, I’m going to kill all of them.”

Itadori doesn’t look all that perturbed, slapping his face while leaping away from Geto’s slash. “Shut it—sorry about that.”

“It’s alright—tighten your spins though, it’ll make you faster and less sloppy,” Geto advises, parrying a kick from Kugisaki followed by her lightsaber. “Make your transition to attack from defense more fluid, you’re telegraphing your moves.”

“Come on guys, are you even trying?” Gojo chides from the side.

As Geto is bringing his lightsaber back, he feels Fushiguro behind him, using his momentum to drive Geto’s saber back towards him while his Loth wolf grabs onto his robes with his teeth.

“Clever,” Geto acknowledges, simply shucking off his robe and twisting aside. “But you need to press your advantage more.”

Kugisaki shoots a look over at Gojo. “…Are you  _ sure  _ we should be taking advice from him?”

“Why do you think I’m slacking off right now?” Gojo whines, waving her off. “Come, come, it’s not every day you get to fight a Sith Lord!”

“I just  _ knew  _ it,” Geto murmurs, dodging another series of blows from Itadori (he does seem to be tightening up those flips a bit). “Of course you’re using me to slack off—this is just like when we were padawans.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s better in some ways,” Gojo replies, sliding down his blindfold long enough to wink at Geto, and conspicuously pulling at his collar to reveal the love bites across the back of his neck.

Kugisaki makes a distinct gagging sound while Fushiguro rolls his eyes so hard that they’re in danger of also somehow making a sound.

“Aren’t you supposed to have some kind of deadly Sith ghost disease?” Fushiguro grumbles, augmenting his swing with the Force, but Geto easily turns it back and knocks him away.

“I am,” Geto replies calmly, dodging and weaving as both Kugisaki and Itadori launch attacks against him. “But they mostly flare up when I use them to augment myself, and I’m not doing so currently. It’s not necessary.”

“Are you worried about him deceiving me, Megumi?” Gojo asks in delight, “Are you worried about him taking advantage of me? Never fear—your old master is usually the one taking advantage of him—”

“One day, we will find a Sarlaac, and you will fall into it,” Fushiguro says darkly, kicking at Geto’s arm but not managing to disarm him. “We will rescue you, but I think you spending a day in there first would be beneficial.”

“So meeeeean, you see what I have to put up with, Suguru?” Gojo demands, waving his hand around. “I bet Nanako and Mimiko never give you this kind of backtalk.”

“Oh, they definitely do when I try to give them advice on the practicality of their robes,” Geto comments, massaging his arm while parrying Itadori’s blows one-handed. “All of you need to push more Force into your blows.”

“And that’s him, Mr. ‘The Force is Evil and wants to Kill all of Us to Maintain Balance’, telling you guys,” Gojo says before adding, “Except you, Yuuji—you need to hold back and then release right at the moment of the blow, that will probably work better for you. Nobara, maybe we should think about getting you a second lightsaber, there’s a thought. And Megumi, don’t draw back and think, move with the Force and  _ attack _ .”

By the end of the training session, Kugisaki has probably come the closest to disarming him, wrenching away Gojo’s lightsaber at the last minute to swipe at him with it, although both Itadori and Fushiguro are very good. It’s just that Geto cannot be more used to Ataru techniques having sparred with Gojo for years, and many of Fushiguro’s tricks are also Gojo’s.

“You’ve taught them well,” Geto comments, deactivating his lightsaber and putting it away on his belt.

“Of course I have, I’m the strongest, after all,” Gojo declares.

“If you’re the strongest, how come we’re the ones sweating over here?” Kugisaki grumbles, glaring at both adults resentfully.

“Because he’s also the laziest,” Fushiguro points out, putting away his own lightsaber and running a hand down his Loth wolf’s back.

“I don’t know, I thought that was pretty fun!” Itadori says, also putting away his lightsaber and walking over to pet Fushiguro’s Loth wolf. “I feel like I nearly got him once—we can train again right?”

“Well, I have nothing else to do,” Geto comments, glancing over at Gojo.

Fushiguro frowns, stepping so that he is between Geto and Itadori. “I’ll join you.”

“Why, Megumi! Who knew you cared so much!” Gojo simpers to the side.

“You’re the one leaving your padawan who has an ancient Sith being inside of him with a necromancer Sith Lord,” Fushiguro shoots back, his face flushing.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it—Suguru knows better than to try anything with me here, and besides, even if Sukuna does make an appearance, I can beat him,” Gojo says simply, digging his little finger into his ear and cleaning it out.

Kugisaki rolls her eyes as she points her lightsaber straight at Geto before deactivating it. “Far be it for me to disagree with my Master, but you’re shady as fuck, so we’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Geto just shrugs (she’d probably get along splendidly with Nanako and Mimiko). “As you wish.”

Still, even with two of three of Gojo’s padawans distinctly unimpressed with him and one more on the fence, across the next week as they stealthily make their way over to Dromund Kaas and then begin to explore the swampy planet, he becomes somewhat fond of them.

Itadori remains a cheerful, sunny boy, but he must have received Manadolrian-levels of training or something from  _ somewhere _ , because even his physical attacks not bolstered by the Force would be devastating if they actually connected. With him now able to tap into the Force, one day, given time, he may be as much a master in Ataru as Gojo is. He seems to not especially be worried on the surface about the Sith spirit inside him, and mostly just ignores Sukuna when a fanged mouth forms on his cheek or hand.

Kugisaki looks seemingly unimpressed with everything, but is an absolutely brutal fighter and quite the virtuoso with her lightsaber. Gojo was right to have her assemble a second lightsaber, and she is a storm of damage when she gets going. At the same time, although she complains about their lame robes and calls them all dumb, she fights especially harder whenever he goes after one of her fellow padawans.

And then there is Fushiguro, practically Gojo’s adopted son the way Nanako and Mimiko are practically his adopted daughters. He’s about the same as ever, quiet and stoic, except in the face of Gojo’s teasing, fighting Geto, or now apparently, interacting with Itadori. He always takes the time to sit next to the pink-haired boy, a small smile on his face as he listens to him chatter away and answers any questions Itadori has about the Jedi and their history.

(That may not end well.

Besides the usual Jedi non-attachment thing, which Satoru would never enforce anyway, there may come a day when Sukuna takes over, and even if that doesn’t happen, surely the Council won’t suffer him to run around forever.

They’ve been trying to kill Geto for nearly a decade now, after all.

Obviously, Satoru won’t let that happen, but Satoru can’t always be around.

If Itadori Fell, would Fushiguro as well to defend him?

Possibly not, and Itadori does seem to have a great amount of resistance to the Dark Side, but it is a thought.

A pity because they would all be  _ splendid  _ if they embraced the Dark Side.

Itadori paired with Sukuna, Kugisaki joining the ranks of the Sith Inquisitors with Nanako and Mimiko, Fushiguro with his abilities with Force-sensitive animals and his Mandalorian reflexes would be a boon to his cause against the Force, and of course Sataoru—

But Satoru would never let that come to pass.

And Geto loves him too much to attempt to force him there.

It’s just—

Surely Satoru can also see that the Force, no matter how they use it, isn’t a benevolent thing?

Look at all the things it’s driven all of them to do.)

“Are we sure this is the right way to find a Dashade?” Kugisaki demands after a week of skirting around Imperials and tromping through the swamp. “Shouldn’t there be—I don’t know— _ signs  _ we could pick up? Right now we’re just following Fushiguro’s hunches and the Sith Lord’s ghost friends!”

“Hey, Fushiguro is doing his best, and he hasn’t led us wrong yet!” Itadori immediately defends him, wringing the hood of his robe out from where something green and foul had splattered onto it.

“Thanks,” Fushiguro says quietly, lightly sweeping Itadori’s shoulder clean before crouching down to look his Loth wolf in the eye, frowning. “Well—Dashade don’t really have a Force signature since they’re nearly Force-null, but Ten Shadows has talked to some other animals here, and they have definitely seen something that looks like a Dashade wandering around.”

“And my spirits are telling me this is the right direction,” Geto says, unperturbed.

Kugisaki snorts, leveling him a look. “Yeah, like we should totally trust what you’re saying.”

“Is this because he thrashed Maki one time?” Gojo asks sympathetically, leaning against Geto while entirely clean because of his damn Force abilities. “He feels bad about that now, don’t you, Suguru?”

Geto sighs. “I still think Okkotsu Yuuta should have joined my side.”

“That’s not an apology,” Kugisaki glares at him.

Geto shrugs. “I’m a little twitchy around Mandolorians. I do regret some of my actions then now—they went too far.”

(It had been a mistake to go after Okkotsu’s friends to convince him to join his side.

He supposes that he had been in the Empire and working with Sith too long to think that  _ that  _ was a good idea.)

“It’s fine, Yuuta kicked your ass,” Gojo comments, poking his cheek. “And you say I’m not a good Master.”

“You’re not even technically his Master, isn’t he really Master Yaga’s padawan?”

“But since we’re  _ also  _ Master Yaga’s padawans, that totally makes him also sort of  _ our  _ padawan,” Gojo argues, hanging off of him like a swamp sloth.

Geto attempts to shrug him off. “Which is why again, I could have trained him really well.”

“He already has one superpowered spirit on his side, he doesn’t need any more until you figure out a cure to your ghost-sickness,” Gojo says, hanging on even tighter.

“I suppose that’s true—”

“Wow padawans, did you hear that? You guys need to write this down somewhere: Geto Suguru actually admitted that I was right—”

“Seriously, Satoru?”

“What—”

“Quiet,” Fushiguro snaps, holding up a hand.

“If you think our bickering is bad, wait until we get onto the subject of laundry—oh,” Gojo pauses and pulls at Geto’s robes. “I see.”

A low growl spreads through the swamp, and out of the dense trees comes a hulking Dashade. He looms tall over all of them, his pale reptilian skin shadowed by the dense jungle foliage, his red eyes glowing in the dim light, and his sharp lamprey mouth opening. “Jedi on Dromund Kaas. You must be quite foolish or suicidal—but no matter, I have not eaten a Jedi in a long time.”

“We’re not going to taste good after having tromped around for a week in the muck looking for you,” Gojo says cheerily, coming off of Geto to stand in front of his padawans who already all have their lightsabers out.

The Dashade tilts his head, staring at Gojo. “Looking for me?”

“You’re Khem Val, aren’t you? Not many Dashade left, so I doubt there’s more than one of you on Dromund Kaas,” Gojo nods to Geto who brings out the Sith holocron. “We have something from a Sith Lord for you.”

Khem Val snorts, his monstrous face seeming to twist a little in disgust. “A Sith Lord. There is no Sith Lord alive who deserves that title.”

“Well, lucky for you it’s not one that’s alive, it’s Darth Imperius,” Gojo says, keeping the same cheerful tone, but Geto can feel him gathering the Force around him.

Khem Val stills. “…if you are lying about that, I will rip off your arms and legs, and then slaughter the others, and make you watch.”

Gojo yawns. “You can certainly try. Suguru—you do the honors?”

Geto nods at Gojo and sets the holocron down before activating it. Like before, Darth Imperius’ hologram appears before them, but unlike before, her smile seems less manically cheerful and slightly tinged with regret.

(Possibly some kind of bio-activation thing going on in that holocron to respond to a specific person’s DNA or something.)

“Khem, my most morose monster,” Darth Imperius says in a nearly tender tone, stroking the mask in her hands. “If you’re watching this—well, you were right that I shouldn’t go places without you as my guard, I guess. I’m guessing you’re on Dromund Kaas—I certainly hope you are since that’s what I’m telling any Sith who finds this to go to—and you’re meandering around here just stuck in place. I’m sorry that I am not there with you, and that you are alone, but Khem—go live your life. Don’t turn me into another Tulak Hord—if I do somehow come back, I’ll find you, but in the meantime, don’t wait for me.”

Khem Val is watching the hologram unblinkingly, stretching out a hand towards it, while the padawans are whispering among themselves and making slight faces, and Geto himself is starting to have some thoughts on this matter as well.

(It was known that Darth Imperius had a number of companions that she was close to, from an ex-Republic space pirate, a fallen Jedi padawan, and of course her ever faithful Dashade bodyguard, but he hadn’t realized until now exactly  _ how  _ close they had been.

He doesn’t want to think any further about it.)

Gojo has no such compunctions though. “So wait—were they—”

“Don’t ask,” Geto says forbiddingly.

“But like, come on! They seem, you know,” Gojo wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “But how does that work, because like all the Twi’leks I’ve met are human-sized, and he’s like 8ft tall—”

“Shut up,” Geto hisses at him. “He’s right  _ there. _ ”

“He is, and stop your prattling,” Khem Val hisses, his eyes still intent on the hologram.

“Also, don’t eat the people that brought this to you,” Darth Imperius adds. “They went through a lot after all to bring this to you. And tell them how I overcame the ghost sickness since I’m sure one of them there has to be a Sith who is trying out the whole technique. We will meet again, Khem, I swear, one way or another. Until then—well, you don’t need me to tell you to stay alive, but don’t dwell too much in the past, and  _ live,  _ Khem. Don’t let Mistress Death claim you—we took a vow together after all, and even now, I hold you to that.”

She simply smiles at him as the hologram winks out and the Sith holocron closes once again. Khem Val stands there, frozen in silence for several more seconds before moving heavily to pick up the holocron, cradling it to his chest in a gentler motion than his hulking body seems capable of.

“…I will do as the little Sith asks and tell you of the cure, even if none of you are fit to even kiss her boots,” Khem Val finally rasps out, his voice thick. “You will need to find a Rakata Mother Machine to fix your body to be able to withstand the ghosts, and you will need to go to a cult on Voss for a mind-healing ritual to stabilize your mind against the ghosts.”

“And where are we supposed to find a Rakata Mother Machine?” Geto asks skeptically (he knows they aren’t myths, but he hadn’t thought there were any left intact now).

Khem Val shrugs. “The little Sith went to Belsavis and found one there. Perhaps it remains. Now, if there is nothing else—”

“I’ve got a question,” Gojo interrupts, planting his feet firmly into the ground.

Khem Val gives him the flat look of annoyance that everyone tends to eventually give Gojo. “My relationship with Lord Kallig is none of your business, and if you dare to question it, I will rip off your arms.”

“See, we upgraded all the way to just ripping off my arms, so I think we’re getting along better,” Gojo states blithely before his expression grows more serious, and he asks, “…you’re still following her orders even though she left you?”

“I made a vow to her,” Khem Val says steadily, his large clawed hand drifting down and touching the pouch on his belt. “And—I should have gone after her. I should have been there with her when they attacked.”

It’s Gojo’s turn to be silent for a bit, staring at the Dashade while abnormally still.

(…what is going on here?

He had thought it would have been more of Satoru’s prurient interest, but this seems—

He’s not sure, but they probably shouldn’t hang around here and test the bounds of a Dashade’s hunger more than they should.)

“Thank you for your time,” Geto bows slightly towards the Dasahde before tugging on Gojo’s arm and motioning for the padawans to follow.

Gojo remains in thoughtful silence throughout nearly their entire trek back to their ship, even as Geto argues with his padawans about how feasible finding an intact Rakata Mother Machine on Belsavis is versus how hard getting a cult to reveal its mystical mind-healing ritual on Voss would be.

“I thought that Rakata Mother Machines were myths,” Itadori comments, scratching his head. “Are we going to have to search the entire planet for it?”

“Still easier than getting some cult to reveal a secret,” Kugisaki argues, crossing her arms.

“Technically, aren’t the Rakata a cult as well?” Fushiguro points out.

“Speciesist,” Gojo comments absent-mindedly.

“Any Rakata left on Belsavis and who actually still have a Mother Machine, I mean,” Fushiguro clarifies.

“Well, I suppose I’ll find out myself,” Geto sighs, folding his arms in his sleeves. “If I can use your ship’s comms, I’ll get ahold of Nanako and Mimiko and then travel with them to Belsavia, and finally get out of your way.”

“You’re leaving?” Gojo jerks up and stares at him.

Geto stares right back at him. “Yes? You can’t possibly want to keep helping me with this—Force knows how many angry messages you’ve already ignored from the Council, and getting ahold of a Rakata Mother Machine, a secret mind-healing ritual, is probably going to involve methods you won’t like.”

“I told you that I wasn’t going to permit you to die like this,” Gojo says fiercely.

Geto quirks up an eyebrow. “Satoru, you know me. These quests are hard, that’s true, but—didn’t you always rank me as the strongest besides you? I’ll be fine.”

(Even if the ghosts are screaming inside his head and blocking his abilities at times, Nanako and Mimiko should be able to compensate for that.

It’ll be hard but—

Well, he always knew Satoru couldn’t stay by his side.)

“…You always say that,” Gojo says, reaching out a hand and touching his cheek. “You said that after Riko too, and I took you at your word because I was hurting too, but—I’ve spent years blaming you for leaving, Suguru, but maybe—maybe I was the one who should have reached out first. And this time—I’m not letting you go on your own, not again. Fuck the Order, I don’t want to turn into that Dashade—waiting for a ghost.”

(He—

It’s true, he had been in a pretty dark place after Riko’s death, and with Satoru training so hard and off on so many new missions, most of the time he had had to just sit there and tried to meditate while dark thoughts crawled around his head—

But in the end, he knows it was his decision to turn his back on the Order, go to the Dark Side, and leave Satoru in favor of trying to find a way to eradicate the Force.

Still—Satoru saying that he wants to stay, that he wants to go against the Order basically for him—

Some part of him is singing and exulting inside.)

Geto stares at him, touching the back of his hand with his fingers. “You—what about your padawans? And it’s not like you agree with my goals—”

“My padawans are safer with me, and hey, as long as I’m with you, I can probably convince you to not do  _ some  _ murderous Dark Sider stuff, right?” Gojo cracks an awkward smile, turning his hand around so that he can hook their fingers together. “I don’t agree with your need to eradicate the Force, or the way you try to go about doing it—but I do agree that the Force sometimes seems to meddle in things it shouldn’t. So—that’s a start, isn’t it? Can’t we work together again?”

“That’s all I have ever wanted,” Geto confesses, kissing the back of his hand.

Gojo pulls his blindfold off and smiles at him, a smile of pure joy, and of course Geto has to kiss him, and then he’s being shoved against a tree while Gojo happily attempts to wrap all his limbs around him, and the padawans are all making various noises of disgust and distress.

“Gross! Adults are disgusting!” Kugisaki screeches.

“Uh, Fushiguro, why are you covering my eyes?” Itadori asks.

“You really don’t want to see what is happening,” Fushiguro’s pained voice sounds out, “ _ I  _ need to master some kind of technique to wipe my memory of this.”

“If you master it, you need to work it on me too,” Kugisaki grumbles. “Also, no one asked  _ us  _ if we wanted to be hauled around on the rest of this Sith Lord quest!”

Gojo detaches from Geto’s mouth with a slight slurping sound to look over his shoulder at her. “Don’t worry Nobara, we’re definitely going to go visit Maki next—as a bounty hunter she probably has some leads on all this stuff.”

Kugisaki’s glare lessens slightly. “…still not hearing a request here.”

“Padawans, would you rather come with me on this quest to save the Sith love of my life and possibly maybe also redeem him a bit, or would you rather go back to the Temple on Coruscant where the Council will probably send the three of you on suicidal missions until one of them manages to get Yuuji killed?” Gojo asks, quirking up an eyebrow.

“We’ll go with you,” Fushiguro says immediately.

Kugisaki also grudgingly nods, drumming her fingers against her hip. “When you put it that way…”

“Aw, thanks guys,” Itadori beams while reaching up to grab Fushiguro’s hands. “Hey, are they done?”

“I hope so,” Fushiguro says stiffly, removing his hands while his cheeks go pink.

“After Suguru comms Nanako and Mimiko, you padawans can all have your own ship while Suguru and I take the other, because believe me, I have  _ plans. _ ” Gojo leers at Geto.

“I would hope so,” Geto murmurs back, gripping his hips hard.

And amidst the noises of the padawans all yelling away, staring into Gojo’s sparkling blue eyes, Geto thinks for the first time in a long time—he has a chance here, a chance to truly make a difference, with Gojo here back at his side.

(They’ve always been stronger together than apart, so—no matter exactly where this path takes them, the Force better watch out.)

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like everyone now being in the Star Wars universe? Any fans of the Sith Inquisitor from the Old Republic MMORPG here? (I used my Sith Inquisitor of course, who was aligned more with the Light Side) Did you like Gojo and Geto managing to kind of work through their issues and stay together this time? How was the ItaFushi? And I thought it would be cool to have Nobara be a Miralan, I thought she'd look really cool! Did you guys like Geto's ability translated into the Star Wars universe? How was the smut? Please leave comments/kudos!
> 
> So I took the Insidious Force theory from the second KoTR game; I thought it would be something that Geto could relate to, but also something that Gojo could eventually reach a compromise on.


End file.
